Early rain caressing our tin roof kept us snuggled in. Still on game patrol, we watched as elk wandered into the field across the lake and had their breakfast. Then the sun beat out the clouds and motes of light danced on the water. With weather this perfect, we knew it was time to ride.
Back on the Alcan, we dove into the Rockies again. The show they put on for us this morning was so intense, it hurt my heart.
For a time, we ran the Toad River whose name is a bastardization of the original. When they built the highway, there were no bridges, so vehicles and equipment had to be "towed" across this river. The towed became toad and the rest is history.
A shocking aquamarine, the Toad drew us into the landscape as it guided us through the mountains. Few other vehicles ran the road. Rascal spread her wings and we rose into the sky. Muncho Lake proved we were in the heavens when it overwhelmed us with its pristine azure waters. I doubt that the truth of this beauty could ever be replicated in painting or photo. Gasping at each turn, I felt tears of wonder and joy fill my eyes.
Then there were sheep! Silly in the middle of the road, they munched away, oblivious to us. We watched, then slowly tried to move on as the stepped further into the road. Finally we bullied our way past and headed on.
The mountains subsided as we ventured into Tatanka territory. Signs warning of buffalo were accurate. Solitary hairy monsters and whole herds dotted the landscape and road. The border of the Yukon came with little fanfare at a stop for gas. After that, the road twisted back and forth across the border. Finally at Watson Lake we got an official greeting.
The only town within 400 miles either way, Watson Lake sported 3 options for sleeping and a Chinese restaurant. The view from our window was a bit different than last night, but as prospectors venturing into the Yukon to search for more golden memories, we can "rough it" occasionally!
Gradually we are chipping away at the Alaska Highway. Every ride has presented a new jolt of wonder. Colors no palette can hold, mountains rising regally on the horizon, lonely roads that spiral into infinity, all fill our glass each day and we drink thirstily, savoring every drop.
The Toad River
Mountains ahead
Muncho Lake
This sheep doesn't recognize our E-Z Pass
As the mountains draw us in
This is our road
Warning!
The sign was correct!
You Dirty Rascal!
This night's view!
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